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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258698">asking all the right questions || h.h. x oc</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/misssaigon/pseuds/misssaigon'>misssaigon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Danger (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, I Write A Lot, Journalism, Slow Burn, charlotte studies polisci, henry is a criminal law major change my mind, jasper is a paleontologist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:00:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/misssaigon/pseuds/misssaigon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't have time to be a superhero! I'm a fucking journalism major!"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Henry Hart (Henry Danger)/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>asking all the right questions || h.h. x oc</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i am aware this show ended but i do not give a fork</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cat Santos’s mouse cursor hovered over the link. From “Dystopia University Admissions”, it read in 12 pt. Arial font, just like the rest of her emails. But unlike all of them, the message was starred and highlighted in yellow, signaling it unread. It had been sent at 6:58, exactly three minutes ago. Cat had been sitting at her desk, just looking at the sender, barely reading, and just looking at the words “Dystopia University” until they merged together into a blur.</p><p><em> Just click it </em> , the tiny voice in her head said. The little voice in her head sounded like Nellie Bly, a journalist in the late 1800s who went undercover as an insane person to report on the brutality of mental asylums. Or rather, what Cat thought sounded like Nellie Bly. In her mind, Nellie spoke with a very slight New York accent, and her voice was slightly raspy. She often called Cat “kid”. <em> What’s waiting gonna do, kid? Change your results? </em></p><p>The tiny, Nellie-sounding voice in her mind was right. The decision was already made. It was just up to Cat to find out.</p><p>“Okay,” Cat said quietly. “Here we go.”</p><p>Her fingers tapped the trackpad, which made a “click!” noise as the screen went blank for a moment. It was only for a millisecond, but the anxiety made it feel like an hour. Cat’s heart pumped and her head throbbed. Sweat trickled down her forehead and ran down her cheeks, but maybe those were from tears.</p><p>The screen finally loaded. She saw the green and yellow school colors of Dystopia University -- an urban school about 100 miles away from Swellview, the place she had called home for years. Sure, the crime rate was seven percent higher than Swellview, but Cat craved more excitement than a suburb whose only defining trait was a sign that read its name. Besides, crime was the best thing to write about, and the tuition was cheap.</p><p><em> Dear Catriona Santos </em>, the email read.</p><p>That was how far Cat got into the email before standing up from her spinny chair. She ran her fingers through her black hair, her back turned to the bright light of her laptop. She wiped her face with the sleeves of her Swellview Times sweatshirt, which she got from her internship there the summer before. </p><p>“Come on, Cat,” she told herself as she sniffed. “It’s just a yes or no. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before. Worst comes to worst, you don’t get in! And then you just have to wait for more acceptances -- and possible rejections--, and then you find a school that’s right for you! Granted, it’ll probably more expensive and/or doesn’t have the features that you like most about Dystopia, and you have to wait longer to hear back because this is your early decision school, and this is the only school you’ve applied to so far and-- oh my God, stop freaking yourself out.”</p><p>Cat fell back on her bed, arms outstretched like wings. She wished she could just fly away like a bird, floating freely from her problems and her decision email.</p><p>She picked her head up. The screen was too far to read from her bed. Cat had no choice but to physically get up and walk to her Pear laptop.</p><p>Slowly, Cat rose from her bed. She leaned in, squinted because she wasn’t wearing her contacts or glasses, and read the rest of her letter, hand over her racing heart.</p><p>
  <em> On behalf of the faculty at Dystopia University, we’d like to welcome you into the undergraduate class of 2024. </em>
</p><p>Cat elicited a gasp. Her chin trembled. She covered her mouth with her hands, and tears of joy fell from her eyes to the carpet. “Yes!” she screamed, raising her arms and clenched fists in the air. She jumped back onto her bed, arms outstretched again, but this time, she felt like she was soaring. Finally, in a few short months, she’d be free of this small town and writing obituaries and real estate. Cat would instead write for the acclaimed Dystopia Globe -- under her own column for big crimes, not things like petty theft -- and, hopefully, win a Pulitzer Prize for Journalism by the time she was thirty. </p><p>She scrolled through the email, skimming over the whole “your exceptional passion and talent” bit and the dates to send in her deposit. <em> We are so excited to see you in the fall, </em>the last sentence read, and a smile grew on Cat’s face. She let out an excited squeal, pumping her knees up so that she jumped off the floor one foot at a time, and then sighed dreamily. She glanced at the framed newspaper article hanging on the white wall of her bedroom. Her newspaper article.</p><p>It was a front-page article on the town’s elusive sidekick, Kid Danger. Kid Danger had been the sidekick of the town’s local superhero, Captain Man for the past five years. Cat had remembered hearing about him from the news for the first time. </p><p>“Who is Kid Danger?” she remembered hearing when she was thirteen from the town’s news anchor, Trent Overunder.</p><p>“We’ll never know,” Mary Gaperman, the other news anchor, said. “But whoever he is, we’re sure we’ll be hearing more about him in the future.”</p><p>Cat had interned for the Swellview Times the summer between junior and senior year, and she promised a full-page article about the hero, to answer everyone’s -- mostly her own -- burning questions. Everyone else just laughed at her and started telling her their Skybucks orders.</p><p>When the opportunity arrived for a press conference with the hero, Cat had raised her hand first. She held back the urge to bounce up and down in her seat, afraid that it would make her look more childish. She was the youngest intern there, after all. Her supervisor looked at her, the only hand raised in the room, sighed, and gave her permission to go by herself.</p><p>The next day, Cat parked her mom’s powder blue BMW in front of Swellview City Hall, where a public press conference was being held on the fifth anniversary of Kid Danger’s first emergence. Everyone filed into the gates, and Cat followed the crowd. There were a lot of journalists, and even fans, arriving to watch. Most of the reporters pushed past her, dressed up in power suits and stilettos that made them look extra tall and important. Cat was just in a light blue denim jacket, white t-shirt, and a long, baby pink tulle skirt, with a matching rabbit’s ear scrunchie tying her long black hair back in a half ponytail. With the huge grin on her face, she looked more like a lovestruck fan than a reporter. The only way you could tell that she was with the Swellview Times was by her badge, and it only read “Intern”.</p><p>Cat was in the very middle of the left side of the room, and she was covered by the much taller journalists of higher calibers. She jumped up and down, trying to see past the heads and shoulders of the other reporters, who were all trying to attract Kid Danger’s attention.</p><p>She held her tape recorder up. Every time Kid Danger would say, “Next question,” she raised her free hand up, waving the bright pink feather pen and matching notebook in the air. She knew it was no use. With Cat’s 5’3” frame, she wouldn’t be seen from that far.</p><p>So she pushed forward.</p><p>Every time she saw an opening between reporters, she’d squeeze through, saying “Excuse me,” even though it didn’t help the glares from the journalists. After pushing five or six reporters out of her way, she was finally at the very front of the crowd. She could see Kid Danger so clearly now. He looked taller as she got closer.</p><p>“I have a question!” she called out. No response; Kid Danger wasn’t looking her way.</p><p>She waved her pen and notebook in her hand. “I have a question!” she echoed.</p><p>Finally, Kid Danger looked directly at her, and his eyes widened, surprised that someone other than a middle-aged man or woman in a pantsuit was in the front of the bustling crowd. and he lifted his hand and lowered it to ease the crowd. He took her in for a minute, looking her up and down as if he was trying to remember her from somewhere. Then he leaned into the mic and said, “Yes, I am single.”</p><p>Cat furrowed her eyebrows. “That-- that wasn’t my question.”</p><p>Kid Danger blinked at her. “Oh? You’re not a fan?”</p><p>Cat flushed pink. “No! Well, yes, I am a fan, but--” she peered around the room, noticing the peeved stares of everyone else. She cleared her throat. <em> Don’t just think like a reporter, </em> Nellie said in her mind. <em> Speak like one. </em></p><p>“Cat Santos for The Swellview Times,” she announced, lifting her badge up for him to see. She saw Kid Danger’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “What do you envision yourself doing next, Kid Danger?”</p><p>Kid Danger blinked. From this close, Cat noticed his eyes were dark brown. “What do I envision myself doing next?” he echoed. Cat watched as his expression softened, and his mouth was slightly agape. He didn’t look like he knew either.</p><p>“Let me get back to you on that,” he told Cat with a small, nervous smile. He then turned to the rest of the crowd. Cat felt herself wilt. All that pushing for that?</p><p>At the end of the press conference, when Kid Danger announced that he had to leave and disappeared behind the curtains, Cat stayed behind for a few moments, wondering what had just happened. “Let me get back to you on that”? How was that supposed to help? How was that supposed to help her write her article?</p><p>She was the last one to leave, staring dumbly at the stage. A janitor had gently nudged her with the broomstick, telling her that Kid Danger wasn’t going to sign autographs for fans this time around. Cat sighed and slouched, turning around for the exit in defeat. Kid Danger gave everyone else detailed answers, even the fans who just asked, “What’s your favorite color?”. “What do you like doing for fun?”, and someone who had actually asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” She was just going to have to make do with what she had, she’d decided as she pressed her hand on the metal double door handles of the hall.</p><p>“Hey!” a voice called from behind her back.</p><p>She turned to see Kid Danger running towards her.</p><p>“I told you, I’d get back to you,” he said.</p><p>Cat stared at him in astonishment. “You were serious about that?” she asked him.</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Kid Danger replied as if it were obvious. He looked at her up and down. “Why wouldn’t you think I was serious?”</p><p>Cat rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly and looked down at her black ballet flats. “No one really takes me seriously,” she admitted. </p><p>Kid Danger looked at her. “Is it because you look really young for a news reporter?”</p><p>“I actually am too young to be a news reporter,” Cat said as she tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m seventeen. I’m just an intern for The Swellview Times.” She showed him her badge, which he could now read up close.</p><p>Kid Danger peered closely at the badge, and then up at her. “Huh. I’ve never seen you around.”</p><p>Cat raised an eyebrow. “I just started working here.”</p><p>“No, I meant--” Kid Danger stopped. “Never mind.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Cat nodded slowly. Was this the best idea? Without everyone around, Kid Danger seemed normal. A nervous teenager, just like her. But that just made him more enticing and interesting to write about. Who really <em> was </em> Kid Danger?</p><p>“As an intern, I’m supposed to write a full-page article on a local event or person, and I want to write about you.” Cat pulled out her tape recorder and held it in front of his face. “So please. What do you envision yourself doing in the future?”</p><p>“Whoa there.” Kid Danger pushed the recorder away gently. “Let’s start off easy.”</p><p>Next thing she knew, Kid Danger had taken her hand and led her outside, where they sat across from each other at an outdoor picnic table, and he recounted his time as a sidekick so far. He even told her about some personal things, without giving himself away too much. He was seventeen, just like her. He started this job when he was thirteen. His favorite color was red. He was right-handed. He loved pepperoni pizza (he called it “roni”), tres leches cake, a band called “The Hawkins”, and the game “Sky Whale”. He hated being tickled on his back and feet, celery in tuna salad, and bees.</p><p>Cat smiled when he said that last fact. “Why do you hate bees so much?” she asked him. This was less of an interview question and more of a Cat question, but he didn’t need to know that.</p><p>“Well, when you get stung by bees multiple times while time traveling,” Kid Danger laughed.</p><p>Cat’s brown eyes widened. “You’ve time-traveled?!” she exclaimed. She thumbed through her notes, scribbling it down. So far, she’d written “flown a helicopter” and “gone to space”. </p><p>Cat flipped through her notebook, which was now filled with pink ink and facts about Kid Danger that she wanted to highlight in her article. “But that still doesn’t answer my previous question -- what do you envision yourself doing in the future?” she asked him.</p><p>Kid Danger looked away and drummed his fingers against the table. “Gee, I-I don’t know,” he stammered out. Cat watched as he furrowed his eyebrows and stared into space, the confident Kid Danger dimming, and a new Kid Danger lighting up. The real Kid Danger, whoever he was underneath the mask. For once, Kid Danger didn’t feel like a famous idol she was watching on TV or in the back of a large crowd. Up close, behind the red and silver mask, Kid Danger was a real person, who didn’t know the answers to every single thing, even if it was about himself.</p><p>Cat put down her notebook and pen and rested her elbows on the table, chin in the palms of her hands. “Well, for starters, is there anything you haven’t done? That you really want to do?” she asked.</p><p>Kid Danger finally looked back at her, somewhat pensively, and somewhat softly, like he was going to reveal a personal secret to her he had never admitted to anyone. He was looking at her to tell her he trusted her, despite the fact that he had only known her for a few hours. “I’d… I’d like to travel,” he finally said.</p><p>Cat’s hands didn’t fly to her notebook in response. She just listened.</p><p>“I want to see the world,” he continued. “I’ve always wanted to see Europe, especially Italy. See how pepperoni pizza tastes there. I wanna… I wanna see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe in France.”</p><p>He pronounced “Triomphe” like “Tree-om-fe”. Cat giggled a little.</p><p>“What?” Kid Danger asked, unaware of his mistake.</p><p>“Nothing,” Cat said. “It’s… It’s pronounced ‘Tree-oomph.’”</p><p>“Tree-om-fe,” Kid Danger repeated.</p><p>“Tree-oomph.”</p><p>“Tree-om-fe.” This time, Kid Danger had a teasing smile on his face.</p><p>Cat grinned back. “Tree-oomph.”</p><p>“Ah, tomato, to-mah-to.” Kid Danger waved it away. His cocky smirk turned into a soft simper. “What about you?”</p><p>“Me?” Cat asked, suddenly sitting upright.</p><p>“Yeah, you.” </p><p>“Well, I wanna be a journalist, and I hope that I win a Pulitzer Prize for Journalism before I’m thirty.”</p><p>Kid Danger shook his head. “No, not the future question,” he clarified. “I told you my life story. I want to know yours.”</p><p>Cat just stared. No one really asked about her, not even at school. The closest things she had to friends were the newspaper articles she wrote and the people she wrote about, and she only spoke to them once, twice if needed. To have this locally famous celebrity ask about her -- in what seemed to be a genuinely inquisitive way -- was definitely a shock.</p><p>“Well, I like writing,” she responded after a moment of thinking.</p><p>Kid Danger chuckled, a low, bubbling sound out of his throat, and said, “Obviously. No, what do you do outside of writing?”</p><p>Cat reached out for her tape recorder. “This is your interview, not mine, I don’t wanna hijack it,” she laughed nervously, but it sounded more like a wheeze.</p><p>Kid Danger reached out to push her hand away from the “record” button. “I insist, Cat Santos.” This time, he leaned over with his head in his hands. He pronounced her last name “San-toes”. “I want to be a journalist for a few minutes and know about you.”</p><p>Slowly, Cat talked about herself. She was an incoming senior at Swellview High School. Her favorite color was pink. She had been the sole writer of the Swellview Junior High Buzz and Swellview High Hive for the past five years because no one else was part of the journalism classes there. She was left-handed. She loved pad Thai, vanilla cupcakes with buttercream frosting, Broadway musicals, and The Sims. She hated the sound a fork makes when it’s scraped across a plate, raw carrots, and bees. This was the most Cat had spoken in a long time.</p><p>“Thank you for agreeing that bees totally suck,” Kid Danger said when she finished. “God, I know they help nature but--” He shuddered and rubbed his neck as if he could feel a phantom bee sting.</p><p>Cat laughed. “They’re pretty scary,” she said. “I got stung by one when I had this flower picking habit back in second grade. Haven’t touched a flower since.”</p><p>Kid Danger tilted his head to the side. “Really? Not even a fake one?”</p><p>Cat raised an eyebrow. “Why would I?”</p><p>“Well, because someone, maybe, sent you flowers?” he asked slowly.</p><p>Cat snorted. “Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m married to journalism, and I’m quite content with the love of writing articles. I don’t need materialistic objects like flowers.”</p><p>Kid Danger looked at her, then at the ground, biting his lip thoughtfully. His watch beeped. “Oh, wow. Look at the time.”</p><p>Cat looked up, realizing that the sky went from a brilliant blue to a pastel orange during the time they sat outside. The sun set down in Mount Swellview, ready to rest for the day in the crevices between. “Yeah. Look at the time,” she echoed, taking it in.</p><p>“Do you need a ride home?” Kid Danger offered.</p><p>Cat smiled gratefully as she grabbed her tape recorder and clicked the record button off. She had been recording this whole time. This was going to be a bench to transcribe. “No, I’m fine. I drove here.”</p><p>“Right. Well, the least I can do is walk you to your car,” he said.</p><p>Cat was about to tell him he didn’t need to do that, that she could walk to her car by herself. But part of her wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. So she let him.</p><p>The pair stopped at Cat’s car -- er, the car her mom so graciously let her use. “Thank you for letting me interview you. The article should be out in a couple weeks,” Cat told him.</p><p>“Thank you for letting me interview you,” Kid Danger echoed in response, which made Cat smile.</p><p>They looked at each other for a moment, both not knowing what to do next, or wondering if they should do something next.</p><p>“I - uh, better… uh…” Kid Danger started to say.</p><p>“Yeah-- my parents might--”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Cat looked at Kid Danger one last time, and smiled. “Take care,” she said, as she got in her car and drove away.</p><p>The next morning, Cat arrived at the internship to be immediately greeted by one of the other interns, a college-aged girl. “Someone sent these for you,” she deadpanned, handing her a bouquet of flowers.</p><p>“W-what?” Cat stammered as she took them.</p><p>Suddenly, a crowd of editors and interns flocked to her. For once, they were asking questions about her, not their lattes and croissants.</p><p>“Who’s it from?”</p><p>“Are they real?”</p><p>“Did you buy those for yourself?”</p><p>Cat looked at the bouquet -- a bunch of pink roses mixed with baby’s breath -- and found a white card peeking through the flowers. She fished it out and opened it.</p><p>
  <em> In return for a good article. Mention me when you get your Pulitzer. - K.D. </em>
</p><p>“‘K.D.’?” a writer who was peering over Cat’s shoulder read aloud. “Who’s ‘K.D.’?”</p><p>“Wait, weren’t you with Kid Danger yesterday for the press conference?”</p><p>“Did you hook up with Kid Danger?”</p><p>“Are you dating Kid Danger?”</p><p>The editing room suddenly buzzed with questions. The worst time to be courted, Cat decided, was in front of a bunch of nosy reporters. For the rest of the day, she was swarmed by a bunch of reporters who had never spoken to her before, suddenly finding her cool and worthy of talking to now that she was allegedly dating Kid Danger, rumors that Cat struck down, but gobbled up like sweets.</p><p>Unfortunately, Cat couldn’t write a good article with gossip filling the air. She decided she’d call him, say thank you for the flowers, but keep things platonic and professional. After all, she couldn’t have a scandal surrounding the person she was writing about.</p><p>But Cat didn’t reach out to him just yet. She decided to relish in the limelight for at least a day.</p><p>Or two.</p><p>Or three.</p><p>A few days after the flowers were sent, The Swellview Times suddenly got hit with a big news story: a blimp had just crashed into Mount Swellview, setting it ablaze! A bunch of senior editors and reporters were sent to the scene, and that included Cat.</p><p>Cat rode in the back of the Swellview Times news van, getting hit by jokes that she’d probably see her “boyfriend” there since he was most likely there to save anyone who had been on the blimp or on the mountain. Cat laughed along with them, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that made it churn with uncertainty. Something was wrong. Very wrong.</p><p>The van reached the mountain and Cat and the other reporters climbed up to see all the police officers and paramedics and firefighters extinguishing the fire.</p><p>Cat was at the front of the group and extended her tape recorder out. “What happened here?” she asked a nearby firefighter.</p><p>“A blimp crashed into Mount Swellview,” he replied.</p><p>Cat fought the urge to roll her eyes. Duh. That’s why they were there. “Was anyone on board? Was it carrying anything important?” she continued. <em> Where is Kid Danger?, </em> she wanted to ask, but didn’t. She was surprised that he wasn’t already there.</p><p>“Well, yes,” he answered after a little pause. “One person was steering the blimp, but unfortunately, he perished. We have the identity of the driver already.”</p><p>“Who is it?” she quizzed.</p><p>The firefighter looked pained. The firefighter took a deep breath. “Kid Danger,” he answered, voice quavering.</p><p>Cat lowered her tape recorder. “K-Kid Danger?” she repeated, quietly.</p><p>A murmur of “oh no”s flooded the group, and all eyes fell on Cat. Her breath hitched, and her chest heaved. “Where is your proof?” she whispered.</p><p>“What?” the firefighter asked.</p><p>“Where is your proof?” Cat repeated at the top of her lungs, thrusting the tape recorder at him. “We can’t report on a death if we don’t have proof that he died-- where is your proof?”</p><p>Cat’s throat ached -- she felt like she was screaming. The firefighter held his hands up as if she were wielding a gun and was ready to shoot. He motioned over a police officer, who came over to them. “Kid Danger… was burned in the fire. We don’t have any remains of him, but we know it was him because of this.”</p><p>In the police officer’s hands, she held a red mask lined in silver. The same mask Kid Danger used to shield his identity to Cat just a few days before when they were sitting in Swellview Park and chatting as if they were old friends. When Cat saw Kid Danger as real and alive for the first time.</p><p>And, as it seemed, the last.</p><p>Cat couldn’t remember what happened next. She had a blurry memory of being hoisted back into the van, her throat burning, her head throbbing, her face wet with tears, and then suddenly falling into bed, trembling underneath her blankets.</p><p>The next couple of days passed blankly. She attended Kid Danger’s memorial on Mount Swellview, listening to Captain Man sing a rendition of “Holding Out For a Hero” from <em> Footloose </em>dedicated to Kid Danger, and other eulogies. She wasn’t asked to eulogize. Why would she be? There was nothing between them. They were barely even friends. So why was she so sad about him?</p><p>Cat stared at her ceiling. She hadn’t been to the internship in a while, and she just kept looking at Kid Danger’s card, Not reading it, just looking over the words and the scrawled handwriting. But then she actually read it. <em> In return for a good article </em>.</p><p>She put the card on her desk. She owed it to Kid Danger -- wherever he was -- to write a good article about his life. That was all she needed to do, nothing more, nothing less.</p><p>Cat marched into The Swellview Times with purpose, sat at her cubicle, and typed furiously for three hours straight. She was thankful it had gone back to what it was like when she first started -- with no one talking to her, and everyone pretending like she didn’t exist. It gave her more time to focus, and more gratitude to Kid Danger for noticing her the way he did.</p><p>She printed out her first draft and handed it to her supervisor. “It’s my Kid Danger article,” she stated primly. “I thought it would be fitting at this time.”</p><p>Cat’s supervisor looked over it and smiled at her sadly. “We’ll fit it in somewhere.” She put the paper on top of a pile of others in the far right corner of her desk.</p><p>In an uncharacteristically bold move, Cat put her hand on the top of the pile, ready to grab it back from her. “It has to be front page,” she asserted. “Out of respect.”</p><p>Her supervisor glared at her reproachfully, but then her expression softened into sympathy. “I know you're hurting but--"</p><p>"This has nothing to do with emotions," Cat interrupted. Her face was stone cold. "This is out of respect to one of our local heroes. I'm not going to let it go in some back column that no one reads. Kid Danger deserved better than that." What was she doing? Wasn't Cat aware she was going to lose her internship? At this point, all prior inhibitions had thrown out the window. All she needed was a good article. She had written a damn good article. She was going to get published. That was all she wanted in the first place. So why was she pushing a front-page headline? </p><p>Cat had no forking idea, but it felt good.</p><p>Her supervisor looked at Cat, then looked back at the article. "Fine. We’ll put it on the front page.”</p><p>And there it was. A couple of days later, her article was printed on the front page, with a big headline. “A Personal Thank You to Kid Danger”. It was part interview, part obituary, part thank you letter. Included in the article were all the things Kid Danger liked and wanted to do if he were given more time on this earth, and a bit about Cat herself (although she omitted the bouquet of flowers amongst other things).</p><p>Cat had attached that article to every single college application she sent in, including her application to Dystopia U. And now, she was going. In a way, she owed her success to Kid Danger and his death. She just wished he could have read it himself.</p><p>“In return for a good article,” she said to the picture they used for the front page. “Thank you,” she whispered to Kid Danger, as if he could hear her.</p>
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